


what doesn't kill you leaves you wounded

by CallicoKitten



Series: but i've been thinking of you fondly for sure [3]
Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Angst, Christmas, Multi, Pining, everyones a wreck and god i love it, mick needs a vacay, ray needs like a bunch of therapy and hugs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-17
Updated: 2017-02-17
Packaged: 2018-09-25 05:53:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9805490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CallicoKitten/pseuds/CallicoKitten
Summary: Palmer pauses, pulls his fingers out of the cage and stands up. "Sorry," he says, "I just - " he breaks off with a sigh, fidgeting with his hands. "I just - Do you think Nate likes Amaya more than me?" He blurts out.Mick closes his eyes briefly. Ghost-Len sniggers. Mick's still not entirely sure how and when and why this is how his life turned out.





	

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this mostly to try and kick my writers block so its not really that great but also bc i am not in favour of nate/amaya
> 
> amaya has great chemistry with everyone that show except nate and also, i keep thinking about ray being so excited to meet nate and crushing on him kind of hard and then nate tells him he's interested in amaya and ray just wants to be a Good Friend so he's real attentive and real clear that he and amaya were Certainly Not Sleeping Together Look Nate I'm Being a Good Bro Love Me and then nate tells him about the tent (which was the most fanfic thing ever lbr) and ray just goes to pieces a little
> 
> luckily in this 'verse mick is reluctantly there to pick up the pieces
> 
>  
> 
> anyway, probably takes place in the same verse as all my other legends fics or maybe not? who knows. 
> 
> title from los camp's tip toe through the true bits

Mick's never really been big on Christmas, he and Len agreed a while back that it was mostly just an excuse for your family to get drunk and throw bottles at each other only with tinsel and fairy lights in the background. He bows out before Nate can make good on his promise to sing Christmas carols, while Jax and Sara are bickering about whether _Die Hard_ is really a Christmas movie and heads back to his room to spend some quality time with the six pack under his bed.

"Shut up," he says, pre-emptively to Ghost-Len as he sets the rat's cage down. "'S Christmas, I deserve a day off."

Ghost-Len smirks, "Remember that time we tried to do Christmas for Lisa?"

Mick snaps open a can. "Nope."

He does. He remembers the Christmas tree they found out back behind a diner, half burnt to shit from some unfortunate accident. They were both fresh out of juvie, Lenny was trying to make good, working nights stacking shelves while Mick lived it up and laughed at his aching arms and incredulity at the stupidity of customers. They stole most of the decorations and the snacks but Len saved up to get Lisa presents, to buy one of those pre-roasted chickens. God knows where his Ma was that time.

It was kind of nice.

He's halfway through beer number four (counting the beer he had at dinner, it's more like six but who's counting, really) when someone knocks on his door and shoves their way in. It's Palmer. Mick sighs.

"No, I don't want to watch _Die Hard,_ " Mick says. He's never been much of a Bruce Willis guy.

Palmer blinks, "What? Oh, we're not watching that anymore, Sara's said it's not a Christmas movie even though it _takes place_ at Christmas and they won't let me watch Iron Man 3 so they're - " he trails off, dropping to his knees beside the rat's cage and sticking his fingers through the bars to stroke it.

"Thought you said it could have space plague," Mick grumbles.

"Gideon scanned him, he's clean." He glances over his shoulder at Mick, "You really think I'd give you an _infected_ rat?"

Mick grunts and drains his beer, starts on another one.

"You thought of a name for it yet?" He asks, inanely.

"It's a rat," Mick says. "I'll call it Rat."

Palmer looks mildly affronted, "Well, it's - I mean, I suppose it's as good a name as any."

Mick rolls his eyes. Palmer probably had a whole list of suggestions. He's hoping Palmer will get bored in a few minutes and wander off to bother someone else but he doesn't. Mick sets down his half-empty beer. Ghost-Len is lurking by the door, sneering.

"Don't you have someone else to annoy, Haircut?"

Palmer pauses, pulls his fingers out of the cage and stands up. "Sorry," he says, "I just - " he breaks off with a sigh, fidgeting with his hands. "I just - Do you think Nate likes Amaya more than me?" He blurts out.

Mick closes his eyes briefly. Ghost-Len sniggers. Mick's still not entirely sure how and when and why _this_ is how his life turned out.

"I think _everyone_ likes Amaya more than you, Haircut," he says, taking a swig. "She's a lot less annoying."

"Yeah," Palmer says, kicked puppy expression. "Yeah, probably."

Mick rolls his eyes. "Alright, come on, Pretty. Let's get this over with."

-

"You like watching, Lenny?" he asks, later when Palmer's gone and it's just Mick and his ghost and the AI that mostly keeps quiet when Mick's talking to his delusions. "You could have asked, you know. I'm sure we could have figured something out."

Ghost-Len arches a brow, "Maybe."

"You like watching Palmer," Mick guesses and Ghost-Len drops his gaze for a moment or two. Len was always soft on Palmer, Mick knew before he did, probably, stands to reason his projection of Len would be too.

Palmer probably preferred Len. There's no reason he wouldn't.

"You see now why I want you to leave?" Ghost-Len says and there's something different in his voice this time. It's less bitter, less acidic, more open and raw. Mick doesn't look up, doesn't want to meet Len's gaze. "Look what these idiots have done to us."

Mick nods in agreement, raises the festive bottle of whiskey he fabricated for this special occasion and imagines Len clinking a bottle against his. "To fucking your life over for the sake of a group of irresponsible idiots."

-

Palmer's still sulking the next day, the next week, the next month. It's more moping, really and the New Guy seems completely oblivious as to why. It'd be funny, Mick thinks, if Palmer wasn't so determined to make this his problem too, trailing after Mick like a kicked puppy, all needy and pathetic.

Mick only gets a break when they have lay-over's or when Ray screws up and ends up out of action for a little while. He's taking advantage of one of those blissful times in the cargo bay when Sara joins him. They don't talk much these days, not that they ever did. Len was what they had in common before and she's Captain now, she can't spend all her free time drinking fabricated beer with a former felon.

(Speaking of which, Mick's pretty sure Gideon's been watering down his alcohol but he hasn't been able to get her to admit to it.)

"And what percentage of your blood is alcohol these days, Mick?" Sara asks, dropping down beside him.

"We're coming up on ninety, I think," Mick says, handing her a beer.

She accepts, cracks it open and takes a long sip. When she's done she frowns, turns the can over in her hand and peers at the fine text at the back. "This doesn't taste right," she says.

"I knew it," Mick mutters. "The computer's been watering down my beer."

" _The Computer_ has a name," Gideon interjects.

Sara smiles, "We were wondering how you hadn't died of alcohol poisoning already."

" _Lovely,_ " Mick mutters. _Nice to know you give a damn._

"So," Sara says, taking another swig. "What's up with Nate and Ray?"

"Haircut hasn't come whining to you?"

"Nope. Nate's asked a few times if I know what's up but..."

Mick hums. "Well, from what I gather, Haircut had the hots for the New Guy but New Guy's more interested in Amaya so Haircut's moping and generally being a pain in my ass."

Sara nods sagely. "You know," she says after a moment or two. "When I was little, my dad wanted me to be a teacher. Laurel was already talking about being a lawyer and I wasn't smart enough to be a doctor or warm enough to be a nurse so my dad thought teacher. I wouldn't have minded it you know, good paycheque, steady hours, nice long summer holidays problem is, I really didn't want to have to deal with bullshit like this."

"You and me both, sister," Mick says. Sara raises her can, Mick bumps his against hers.

"So what do we do?" Sara asks, "Let it play out and hope it doesn't get one or both of them killed?"

"I dunno, sounds like a problem for the Captain to me."

Sara rolls her eyes. "Gideon," she says, as she stands. "Drop all alcohol Mr Rory fabricates by another 2%."

"Certainly, Captain," Gideon chirps.

"Traitor!" Mick shouts after her.

-

"I should be on medication," Palmer says. He's sat on the floor of Mick's bunkroom and Mick's not sure whether he's talking to Mick or the rat. "Do you think I should be on medication?"

Ray's still grounded after his last screw up and Mick's had a trying day of chasing Rip around Pompeii on volcano day (and this time he's not even getting a _statue_ out of it) so he's really not feeling this right now.

"If it'll make you less annoying then hell yeah, I think you should be on medication," Mick says. He tosses his gun in the vague direction of his bed and steps into the room, rubbing a hand across his face.

Palmer looks up at him guiltily, "I'm sorry, Mick. I don't know what's wrong with me. It's not like we even - "

 _Might have something to do with the dead fiancé, the two girls who left you for superior guys and well, Len,_ Mick thinks but doesn't say. Instead, he sighs, steps towards Palmer and drops a hand down to wind through his ridiculous hair, "Haircut, there's nothing wrong with you. You just got shitty luck, like the rest of us. We're the losers, remember? That's the whole point."

Ray leans in to his touch and sighs. "Yeah," he says, quietly. "Yeah."

-

"I'm sorry," New Guy says and he still has difficulty looking Mick in the eye which Mick likes. More people should be afraid of looking him in the eye, he thinks. "But are you mad at me for something?"

Mick raises an eyebrow, "And just what would make you say that, Captain Ironpants?" He makes sure to thud his shoulder into the New Guy's as he passes him. The New Guy stumbles a bit.

"Stuff like _that,_ actually," he says.

So maybe Mick's been taking the opportunity to knock into him now and again, maybe there were few streams of fire sent accidentally in his direction but hey, the kid can turn his whole body into metal. He's fine. If Mick really wanted to hurt him he would.

"Stuff like what?" Mick asks, turning back towards New Guy, gaze dark.

Sara and Stein are across the room, they've stopped talking about whatever it was they were talking about, started watching the two of them cautiously. The New Guy glances over at them and swallows, "It's nothing," he mutters. "I was just... It's _nothing._ "

Mick smirks.

"You're not helping, you know," Sara says, when New Guys vanished.

"Not helping who?" Mick grumbles.


End file.
